Those That Remain
by Enelya
Summary: Morwen has reasons to stay in Dorlómin apart from blind faith. A ficlet written from the POV of a Doriathrin elf, for 50lyrics.


**Title:** Those That Remain

**Characters:** Morwen, anonymous Elf of Doriath, baby Nienor, mentions of Túrin, Melian and Thingol

**Prompt:** 020. _and say goodbye to the last parade, and walk away from the choice you made_

**Summary:** Morwen has reasons to stay in Dor-lómin apart from blind faith.

**Author's Notes:** All the characters belong to Tolkien. An Elf of Doriath was kind enough to share his thoughts on Morwen's decision to stay in Dor-lómin, but didn't want to give me his name for some reason…

Morwen's pride was one of the major reasons why she did not go to Doriath with her son or with the Elves later at Melian's invitation. Unfinished Tales says it best: _'Moreover, though she was willing that her son should be fostered in the halls of another, after the manner of that time, she would not yet humble her pride to be an alms-guest, not even of a king.'_

This is yet another piece not written in my usual style (or maybe my style is just changing…) for a couple of reasons. Firstly, it's written from the POV of a Doriathrin Elf, and the Sindarin spoken in Doriath was more formal and archaic than elsewhere. Also, the anonymous Elf, although he means well and respects Morwen, believes that he knows what is best for her, and so he's somewhat arrogant, hence the pompous tone.

* * *

It had been a long journey through hostile lands, in a season that felt more like winter than spring, a journey that would weary even Elves. We were therefore very glad to see Húrin's house, and gladder still that it stood whole and undamaged, with a welcome golden light pouring out from the windows. While I was glad indeed to enjoy some respite from the cold and driving wind, it grieved me to see how the folk of that house had dwindled, for they were all too thin to be healthy, and they had retreated into silence. Fear had become a permanent resident in that land.

And yet, as I lamented silently the fate that had fallen on these people, I was surprised again, for within that silent house I heard the crying of a baby. I learnt from a serving-woman that the baby was Morwen's daughter, born a little more than a month ago, and that she had named the child Nienor – an apt name, perhaps, but grievous to impose it on one so young, was my private opinion, for I am an optimist at heart. Yet I could see no other life for her.

Lady Morwen, to her credit, endeavoured to welcome us as though we had arrived at a time when the House of Hador was at its height, but she herself was affected by the same miasma as her servants, and often lapsed into silence. I saw clearly the relief in her eyes when we told her, as soon as we could, that her son had reached Doriath safely, and that our king had taken him as a foster-son. But that was not the only message that we brought, and I waited until her servants had left us before giving it to her.

'Queen Melian invites you and your daughter to return to Doriath with us, where you may dwell with your son under King Thingol's protection.'

She merely nodded, looking thoughtful. Hard though the decision might be, I had never really expected her to refuse, for what could tie her to this now-barbaric land? And yet refuse she did, replying, 'Please tell your Queen that her offer is very generous, but that I respectfully refuse her invitation.'

'My lady–'

'I guessed that an offer of this sort would be made, and I have thought long and hard over it,' she said firmly. 'I did not make this decision lightly, sir, nor did I make it because of a blind faith that my husband will return,' and I felt my face redden with embarrassment, for I had indeed believed that to be the reason for her refusal. She continued, 'Firstly, while I have sent the Heir of Dor-lómin out of danger in accordance with my husband's wishes and my own, I am not bound to follow any similar commands, and I choose to remain here of my own free will. Secondly, this house shelters the last of the free folk of Dor-lómin. Aged and weary though they may be, they have served me faithfully, and I will not abandon them to slavery or death at the hands of the Easterlings.'

'And thirdly,' she gestured with one hand to her infant daughter, now lying asleep in the crook of her arm, 'even if I wished to leave, I could not. The wild lands are no place for a baby, and I could not leave her behind and go to Doriath myself. Unless there is no other choice, I will not risk losing another child.'

We sat in silence for several minutes, and I pondered her explanation. As she had said herself, the decision was not one of blind faith, and her reasons were legitimate, but I detected, under her words, a stubborn pride that would not allow her to ask for aid or to accept it. Above all things, she did not wish to be pitied, even in a situation as bleak as this.

When I looked at her again, she returned my gaze with a expression partly proud, partly defiant. She was clearly ready to fight for her decision if necessary, but I had no intention of antagonising her more. I only said, 'Then may the Valar protect you, my lady,' feeling frustrated that I could give her nothing more. Time waits for none, and even the Elf kingdoms have lost their old strength.

'It is not I who need their protection,' she replied quietly, and she turned to look at the baby, but I am sure that her thoughts turned also to her son, now in a strange land far from home.


End file.
